


Worth the Wait

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Orlin's departure, Sam's life changes in a way she had only dreamed of before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> For ladysilverangel and the sj_everyday 2010 Secret Santa. Merry Christmas!
> 
> Prompt: Something involving Sam, Jack, snow and a car. Maybe Jack has a secret or something he's just not ready for Sam to know?
> 
> Originally posted December 2010.

WORTH THE WAIT

“Well, hell.” Samantha Carter swore softly and stared glumly at the falling snow. A gust of wind swirled around her, bringing the snow and cold with it, the side exit to the main parking lot on the mountain providing very little shelter from the blowing snow.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” 

A vaguely familiar airman brushed past her, bundled up in a parka and boots, undeterred by the freshly fallen snow. Sam shivered slightly, her leather jacket and loafers were not nearly adequate for the weather. How had she missed the forecast for snow? Of course, she’d been off-world for five days and then confined to the mountain for two more until Daniel’s fever had been confirmed as nothing more than strep throat—which she hoped to hell she wouldn’t catch.

Besides, when she’d left for work over a week ago, the weather had been unseasonably mild for November. It was just her crummy luck that the first snowstorm of the season had caught her unprepared. But then, that seemed to be the story of her life these days. She felt like she’d had been on a downward spiral lately, culminating with the fiasco of Orlin and his foray into her life. The people she’d thought she could count on had let her down, specifically her team, and what hurt most of all was that Jack had let her down. Jack…her problems had really started more than a year ago…when the line between Jack and Colonel O’Neill had become hopelessly blurred.

Suck it up, she told herself firmly, raising the collar on her jacket in a futile attempt against the snow. Nobody likes a whiner.

It was after 1900 and given that the day shift was gone for the day, the parking lot was mostly empty. The snow plows had been through at least once, Sam noted, but the snow was coming down steadily and she winced as some of it found its way into her shoes. She was so unprepared for this, she hated driving her Volvo in the snow; but the weather had been nice for so long into the fall that she’d delayed getting her father’s truck out of storage. Sliding a little on the snow, she really, really hoped the snow packed and icy conditions in the parking lot weren’t a reflection of road conditions.

Slipping to a stop at her car, she brushed the snow away from the door handle and opened it, sending an avalanche of white powder from the roof down into the interior. Oh great, she hated when that happened and she slid into the drivers’ seat, ignoring the cold and now melting snow seeping through her jeans. It was dark and quiet in the car, the snow muffling the sound and the light; her fingers were cold and red and she fumbled the key into the ignition and turned it.

The engine made an ominous grinding noise as it tried to turn over and then faded away into silence. She tried again, this time the engine didn’t even make an attempt to turn over. She pumped the gas pedal and tried again, with the same result—nothing. She tried the lights and the radio—no joy. 

“Dammit, dammit, dammit,” Sam swore tiredly, resting her forehead against the cold steering wheel. She couldn’t believe she had a dead battery. Lately the only luck she had was bad—in spades. All she wanted to do was go home, put on her flannel jammies and snuggle under the covers and forget about the world but no, instead she was going to have to trudge back through the snow to the base, try and find someone from maintenance to come and give her car a jump and then if that worked, pray that she could make it home through the ever increasing snow. She just wanted to cry…but the tears would probably freeze on her cheeks. 

Suck it up, she scolded herself. Sitting in the cold in your car with a dead battery isn’t going to get you home and into your flannel pajamas. You’re an independent woman who can build a naquadah reactor from scratch; a dead car battery is nothing.

Getting out of the car, Sam trudged back towards the entrance. With her head down against the blowing snow, she nearly had a heart attack when a huge truck growled to stop in front of her and a man’s voice said, “Need some help, Carter?”

Sam looked up, brushing her hair out of her eyes and squinting against the snow and wondering how her heart could be racing when she was filled with such despair? Of all the people to come to her rescue, it would have to be him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam stood there in the falling snow and just stared at him, her nose red and eyes glistening from the snow, shivering in her light jacket. “Come on, Carter,” Jack O’Neill said, “you’re freezing! Get in.” She stood there for a moment longer and Jack wondered if she was going to get in or just keep walking when she suddenly moved, slipping and sliding a bit as she hurried around the front of the truck. 

A blast of cold air swirled through the cab when she opened the door and Jack cranked up the heater another notch. She huddled in the front seat; Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so cold and miserable, the warm air blasting out of the vents melted the snow in her hair, sending tiny rivulets of water down her forehead and temples. He’d seen her get into her car and almost immediately get out, so he asked the natural question, “What’s wrong with your car?”

“Battery’s dead.” She sniffled a bit, fishing a tissue out of her pocket and wiping at her nose and face. “Do you have jumper cables?” 

Jack frowned and didn’t answer right away, looking at Sam and then beyond her, to the steadily falling snow visible in the light from his headlights and the light poles scattered about the parking lot. It was a miserable night with the forecast calling for the snow to continue through the night and well into the next day. And Sam…hell, he didn’t know how to read her anymore; even now, when she needed help but seemed almost reluctant to ask. Their relationship, while never simple, had taken a turn for the worse lately and he knew what he wanted to do, but he just didn’t know anymore what she wanted. 

“It’s okay,” she said, the words tumbling rapidly out, her hand already on the door handle. “I’ll call security. Sorry to have bothered you, sir.”  
   
“Carter!” he said, just as the door opened. He lunged across her and quickly pulled the door shut. “What the hell are you doing?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, Jack knew he’d made a huge mistake. 

“Really, sir,” she said, pressed back against the seat, her voice as flat as her expression and her eyes focused somewhere over his shoulder. “It’s not a problem, sir. I can handle it.”

Jack took a deep breath, wondering again how it had gotten so bad between them. “I know you can handle it. But you don’t have to. Let me help you.”

The hesitant look in her eyes almost killed him and made him feel ashamed. She didn’t have to say it, he knew he’d failed her. She’d needed him to guard her back and he’d let her down. And looking at the hurt in her eyes, he couldn’t believe the lie that it was for her own good that he’d left her alone. “Sam, please. Even if we could get your car started, the roads are going to be icy and dangerous. Let me take you home and we’ll come back when the snow stops and take care of your car.”

It was the sensible thing to do and Jack counted on her to do the sensible thing. “All right,” she said, still sounding reluctant even with her agreement.

“Great.” Jack put the truck in gear and headed down the mountain, the defroster and windshield wipers working overtime to keep up with the falling snow. The going was rough, even in his heavy truck, and when they got caught in a long line of traffic creeping along, Jack hazarded a quick look at Sam. It was too bad the window defroster couldn’t do anything about the atmosphere in the truck. It might be warm in the cab, but Sam was still definitely cool, her head turned and her eyes fixed on the falling snow outside the window. 

In an ironic reversal of roles, he wanted to talk to her, but it seemed lately that she’d been going out of her way to avoid him. And as tempting as it was to confront her now, when she was essentially trapped in his truck, the treacherous driving conditions weren’t conducive to the conversation he wanted to have with her. So he didn’t try to engage her in conversation, concentrating on the road and ignoring the silence that was becoming the norm for them. 

It was with relief that Jack finally pulled up in front of her house some thirty minutes later. The streets in town were better than he expected, however the silence in the cab of the truck had remained arctic. He placed the truck in park and turned to Sam, “Well, here we are.”

Whatever else he had planned to say was lost in the rush of cold air that blew into the cab when she opened the door and made a quick escape into the night with a muttered, “Thanks,” that was lost in the wind and the slamming of the truck’s door. Jack sat there in stunned silence and watched her struggle through the accumulated snow on her front lawn, her head tucked down against the wind and blowing snow. He sat there and waited until she made it to her front door; he thought she might look back when she opened the door, but she didn’t, disappearing inside. Crap...so much for helping her. He was frustrated and tired—not to mention hungry. 

When he finally put the truck in gear, he would have driven off right then and never looked back, but he couldn’t help it and when he glanced one last time towards her house and saw the slight twitch of movement at the curtains, he changed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam let the curtain fall back into place as the taillights of Jack’s truck disappeared in the snowy darkness. Slumping against the wall, she wondered why she thought it would be any different this time. Okay, she hadn’t been exactly inviting, but then that had never stopped him before…at least before Orlin. And who was she kidding anyway; nothing had been the same for a long, long time now. 

Leaving her wet loafers on the rug by the front door and her damp jacket draped over a chair, Sam walked barefoot down the hall to her bedroom. The floor was cold and she turned the thermostat up as she walked past it, deciding it was going to take more than turning up the heat to warm her. Shedding her cold and damp jeans, a quick shower with lots of hot water helped, but while she was warm on the outside she still felt chilled on the inside. The lure of her flannel pajamas had dimmed somewhat, but she put them on anyway, along with her fuzzy slippers and warmest robe.

 

The events of the evening had left a hollow feeling inside her and she wandered to the kitchen in what was probably the vain hope that something to eat would make her feel better. Not that that was likely to happen, given the sparse contents of her refrigerator and cupboards. Grabbing one of the cans of soup she kept for just such occasions, she resigned herself to making do with a bowl of chicken noodle soup when there was a sudden pounding at her front door. Nearly dropping the can of soup on her foot, Sam froze and waited, sure she had to be hearing things when the pounding came again. 

And the muffled sound of a voice calling her name. “Sam! Hurry up! Pizza’s getting cold!”

It couldn’t be…he’d driven off…she’d sent him off. The resumption of the pounding finally galvanized her into action and heedless of her fuzzy slippers and robe, she hurried to her front door and turning the locks, pulled it open.

“Sam!” His fist was raised and he lowered it, flashing her a grin and holding up a cardboard box. “Pizza?”

She’d spent so long listening to her head that she almost didn’t hear her heart, but when his smile started to fade, she knew she couldn’t be responsible for more disappointment—his or hers. “How did you know I was hungry?” she asked, stepping back so he could come in.

“Hey,” he said, handing her the pizza box, and a plastic grocery bag, once he was inside. “Five days off world and then two more stuck on base? Who doesn’t want pizza?” 

Sam couldn’t help but smile, standing back as he shrugged out of his coat, the snowflakes on his black watch cap already melted by the time he tugged it off, stuffing it into one of his coat pockets. His cheeks were red from the cold and snow, his silver hair gleaming in the light of her foyer. He was so handsome it made her heart ache, but he was still just as unattainable as ever, so when he bent over and started unlacing his boots, she didn’t let her smile slip and said, “I’ll just take these to the kitchen.”

What should have been the most incredibly awkward dinner turned out to be one of the better evenings she’d had in recent memory. The pizza was her favorite—pepperoni, sausage, black olives and green pepper—the grocery sack held a six pack of beer and diet coke—she’d opted for the beer—and the conversation had been casual and non-threatening. Curled up safely on one of the end of the sofa with Jack sprawled at the other end, she was feeling surprisingly relaxed. That was until the conversation took an unexpected turn.

“Sam, don’t you think it’s time we talked?”

Or maybe it wasn’t so unexpected. She knew there was no such thing as a free lunch and it looked like payment was due. But she was still feeling bruised and hurt by the most recent events, so she pretended not to understand and asked, “About what?”

She had to give him credit, he didn’t adopt the customary Jack O’Neill befuddled look, but answered her with unexpected candor. “About us.”

“There is no us,” she answered blithely. Ignoring him, she abruptly stood, intent on clearing away the remains of their pizza party. 

“Sam,” he said, reaching out in one of those lightning fast moves of his and grabbing her wrist. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Me?” She shook her arm and he let go of her wrist; she was tired of being thrown under the bus. “So this is all my fault?” 

“No, I mean…it’s not anybody’s fault.” His look of confusion seemed real, but it was too late now, he’d opened the door that they’d kept so carefully closed. The tension between them had been building for a long time, so long that they’d both become accustomed to it and while she found it hard to believe that her close encounter with Orlin was the breaking point, maybe she had underestimated the depth of both their feelings.

 

“Right. So it wasn’t my fault that no one believed me when I reported that an alien was in my home? And it wasn’t my fault when my house was demolished when all of a sudden it seemed there was an alien in my house?”

“It’s not that we didn’t believe you,” he protested. “But that’s not what we need to talk about. Well, it is kind of,” he amended. “Seeing you with Orlin made me think.”

“About us?” He nodded, giving her his best endearing look and something inside her snapped. “Let me get this straight,” she said, for once not bothering to disguise her anger—or her hurt, all of the disbelief and secrecy snowballing into an avalanche she couldn’t control. “If you can’t have me, nobody else can? Is that it, Jack?” The slight sneer she added when she said his name caused his eyes to narrow, but right now she didn’t care. “God, you’re just like every other man, you think just because you have a penis it means you can control my life.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it!”

“Oh, right…you only want to control my life when it’s convenient for you. Well, thank you for the pizza and thank you for giving me a ride home. But I don’t need your help.”

“Like you didn’t need my help with your alien boy-toy?”

Her hand connected with his cheek before she even realized what was happening. And by the look on his face, Jack was just as shocked. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling himself together first. “That last comment was uncalled for.”

“No,” Sam said, suddenly horrified. She started backing away, appalled at her loss of control. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—” Her voice started to crack and she whirled around, not wanting him to see her cry. Never let them see you cry, she thought somewhat wildly, holding the back of her hand up against her mouth in effort to stop the imminent flow of tears. 

“Sam.” His hands gripped her shoulders, his voice low and husky in her ear. She shivered at his sudden presence, her fragile control swamped by his overwhelming closeness…his scent and the warmth of his body against hers. She closed her eyes and relaxed just the slightest bit, she didn’t want to fight him but the alternative was even more dangerous. 

“I never wanted it to be like this,” he murmured. “I really thought we could make it work, after that whole Za’tarc thing.” When his hands tightened on her shoulders and he shifted, she let him coax her into turning around until she faced him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that exact look on his face, maybe never…. “I’ve never wanted to control you. At first, I only wanted to be a good team leader, but then….” He shrugged, a self-conscious look entering his eyes. “But then I started to care about your more than I should.” 

“What changed?” she whispered, trying to understand. “We agreed—”

“I know what we agreed.” His hands dropped from her shoulders, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Her stomach was full of knots as she watched him walk away from her. “You were right,” he said, stopping by the fire place and looking at her, his expression pained. “I could handle how things were between us as long as there wasn’t somebody else. I could still think of you as mine.”

Sam gasped softly, stunned by his confession and the pain she saw on his face. It hurt her to see him so vulnerable and unsure.

“I’m afraid I haven’t handled things too well lately,” he admitted.

His expression was still bleak, but Sam thought she sensed something else, a flicker of hope that gave her courage—and a hope to match his. Her lips curved in a slow smile. “No, you haven’t.” He looked surprised for the briefest moment, as if he expected some other reaction from her. “I needed my team to understand me, to back me up.” Her eyes were serious when she added, “I needed you to back me up.”

“God, I know, Sam. I’m sorry, I just don’t know—”

“Apology accepted,” she interrupted; she wanted him appropriately apologetic, she didn’t need him groveling. “I understand now.” A look of relief flashed across his face and she quickly added, “It was still a rotten way to treat a member of your team, regardless of whatever else has gone on between us.”

“Sam, I know. I was just…dammit, I was just jealous!”

“You don’t have any right to be jealous,” she pointed out quietly.

“What if I want that right?” he demanded.

It was what she had always wanted to hear from him, but it would never be as simple as letting it out of the room. What they did impacted too many people. “It’s what I want too, Jack,” she told him. “But I won’t settle for a secret relationship and stolen moments. If we do this, we do it right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tension that had been holding him together left him so fast, Jack almost felt weak in the knees. She forgave him and she wanted the same thing he did. His smile was slow and easy, his confidence returning. “I think that can be arranged,” he drawled. 

“I know we’ll have to break up the team. I can join one of the scientific units or do R&D full time; maybe even teach.”

She looked like she was getting ready to launch into a dissertation on all the different ways they could handle their relationship so he quickly broke in. “I could retire.” The look of surprise on her face was priceless. “Hey,” he grinned. “It’s not like it will be the first time. But,” he said, closing the distance between them, resting his hands lightly on her waist. “There’ll be plenty of time to discuss all the particulars…” he tightened his hands, pulling her towards him and lowering his head, his lips just brushing hers, “in the morning.”

As long as he lived, Jack didn’t think he’d ever forget that moment, when she melted against him, her lips warm and inviting. He felt almost dizzy, the only thing keeping him grounded were her hands and her mouth. Their kisses were tentative at first, even though he felt like he wanted it all—and right away—some things were just better when savored, and kissing Sam Carter was one of those things. So while the urgency was still there, it was tempered with the knowledge that what they shared wasn’t going to end any time soon.

Courtesy of recent events, Jack knew his way around her house and it took very little encouragement to draw her with him down the hallway to her bedroom. Jack’s main obstacle to reaching her bed was Sam’s reluctance to release her grip on him, that and his own inability to stop kissing her long enough to actually make any forward progress. Her robe lay discarded on the floor before they had even left the living room and by the time they did reach her bedroom Jack was shirtless and Sam’s pajamas lay in a puddle on the floor in the doorway. In the few steps it took to reach her bed, his jeans joined the rest of the abandoned clothing and they were finally in her bed.

Jack had to acknowledge that taking Sam to bed was probably not the wisest first step in their tentative new relationship. Never mind that their ‘old’ relationship was more convoluted and dysfunctional than any of the whack-jobs claiming their fifteen minutes of fame on day-time TV. And maybe in another time or place—and if his last competitor hadn’t been an ascended being—he’d court her properly; but this was them and their now would never be normal.

And whether it was the right thing to do or not ceased to matter once she was back in his arms. But Sam was no fool and she cradled his face with her hands, her eyes searching his. “What is it?”

“Just…” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say or how to even tell her if he did. “This is the right thing, isn’t it?”

 

If she was surprised by his unexpected question, she didn’t show it. The concern on her face faded into a look of such tenderness that he had his answer before she spoke. “The right thing?” she said softly. “No, it’s probably not the ‘right’ thing, but it’s what’s best for us.”

Jack didn’t need to hear anymore; he’d never been surer about the rightness of a moment than he was about this one. The time for secrets and hiding behind locked doors was finally over and while he wasn’t altogether proud of his role or his actions of late, Sam was in his arms and nothing else mattered. 

In Jack’s experience, first times—especially with a woman he really cared about—were more anxiety arousing than any other kind of arousing. As selfish as it seemed, if the guy didn’t care about the woman, he generally didn’t worry about anything except his own pleasure. And it wasn’t so much that he was worried, but Sam was more important to him than any woman had been in a very long time and he wanted to please her. 

And as it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Maybe it was the years they’d already spent together or maybe it was because it was just right, but their coming together was both new and achingly familiar. He’d kissed her before, but not like this. He’d held her in his arms, but not skin to skin. But he’d never run his fingers along her collarbone or traced the delicate curve of her neck with his lips. He’d never kissed or caressed her until she was breathless and trembling in his arms. And he’d never heard her whisper his name quite that way, both a plea and promise, her arms and body enveloping him and he never wanted it to end.

Jack moved over her, responding to her eager caresses and soft cries, finding his way home and easing into her warm body. Sam melted around him, somehow both strong and pliant at the same time, the relief and pleasure so intense Jack felt overwhelmed; his breathing ragged, he sagged against her and buried his face in her throat.

“Jack,” she murmured, her fingers running lightly through his hair, down his shoulders and back. He raised his head, groaning softly when his hips pressed more deeply into her and gazed down at her, wonder filling him at the expression of love and understanding shining out of her clear blue eyes. “I love you.”

His hand trembled when he caressed her cheek, he wasn’t sure he deserved this second chance, but he was too selfish to let her go. There was no more doubt in his mind; he’d do whatever it took—whatever she wanted—to ensure he was the only man in her life. “Sam…you won’t regret this.”

Sam’s lips curved in a lazy smile. “I know,” she reassured him, her hands moved down his back in a slow caress before coming to rest on his ass. She shifted then in a deliberate movement that nearly made his head explode, wrapping her slim legs around his hips. “But don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Jack groaned, the power of speech currently beyond him, and started moving, slowly at first but then with increasing power and confidence. And Sam moved with him, encouraging him and luring him ever deeper with her softly whispered words and fervent caresses. And whether through sheer determination or pure luck, Jack felt Sam shudder beneath him, softly crying out in pleasure and with her release assured, Jack followed her into ecstasy.

Sam’s fingers ruffled through his hair and she sighed, a curious lightness in her voice when she murmured, “That was definitely worth the wait.”

Jack smiled, nuzzling her neck before raising his head and propping himself up over her. The satisfied look on her face was probably more than he deserved, but as long as he was the only man in her house, in her bed—and on her mind—he didn’t care. “Definitely.”

THE END


End file.
